After the Rain
by shygirly
Summary: UPDATED! An original Carby story that starts out a bit angsty. It's headed in the right direction though! COMPLETE!
1. Streetlights

After the Rain

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine

Chapter one: "Streetlights"

I turn over onto my side and out of her grip to wipe the sweat beads that have started to drip down the side of my face. Looking at the clock, I wince at the late hour. I shouldn't be awake right now; I should be sleeping in my bed, alone, at home. Turning back to her, I rest my head on her naked chest, savoring the softness of her skin on mine just for the little time left that I will get to touch her. I run my fingers down her arms and start to drift back to realty, remembering that in a few moments I need to get up and leave and tomorrow when I see her it will be as if this never happened. A few more minutes, that's all I need.

I'll think about it when I get home, when the hot water hits my body as I cleanse off yet another night of meaningless sex. I'll think about how I got myself here and how it ever turned into this type of thing. I'll think about how every time we sleep together it depreciates the value of what we once had. As I walk by the flickering streetlights, I'll think about the way we use each other and need each other, and can't get away from this hole that some how we have fallen into. It shouldn't be like this. And every night I leave her I tell myself that I won't do it again. I won't sleep with her and not feel anything. I won't keep trying to pretend that this is only sex. I won't knock on this front door again.

But for now I'll lie next to her and rest my head in the crook of her neck. And I'll try not to think about how people that use each other for sex, usually don't hold each other once they are sated and spent.

A while later she glances down at me, surprised that I'm still here, and I realize that this is probably the longest amount of time that I have stayed after we've gotten what we wanted from each other. I extract myself from her grip; this is about that time when I should get going. It's that time again, time for the shame, time to get up and stand over her and say goodbye. I move to sit on the side of the bed, my back facing her as I slide into my pants. This is the worst part, turning around and looking at her, looking her in the eye and walking away. I hate doing it. Every time, this is what makes me regret it, what makes me decide that I will never be in this bed again. I turn around slowly and look at her softly. She's asleep, her long gorgeous hair fanned out over her pillow. I move closer and run my hand over her sheets, studying her soft features and watching her chest rise and fall. She is still beautiful, even more now than she was when she was mine.

Leaning into her, I gently sweep the hair out of her eyes, letting my finger linger on her face a little longer that it should.

"Abby, I'll see you later." I whisper it into the air and she stirs a little, moving on to her stomach. I then turn to walk out of the room but I am stopped by the sound of her raspy, sleepy voice.

"Carter" I walk back to the bed and she opens her eyes before speaking again. "Could you turn the light off and lock the door behind you?" I nod my head and she closes her eyes again before I flick off the light and walk out of her bedroom and out of her apartment for the last time.

AN: Okay, I know this is dark but I think it's a good start for something pretty original. It will be carby eventually, but I wanted to start off with some good old fashion angst. This story is going to be a bit different than anything I have done. There will be some flashbacks to explain what happened before this scene. This fic will also have shorter chapters so I will be able to write this story and my other, The Lonely Hearts Cub, at the same time. Thanks for reading and don't forget to tell me what you think!


	2. Regret

AN: Okay, here's the next chapter of this fic. I can't tell if people are reading or not because I haven't gotten many reviews. Maybe it's too dark for you guys? But it is going to lighten up, and it will become Carby, I promise!! Also, some flash backs will come a little later. You will learn chapter by chapter how these two got involved again. You aren't supposed to know the whole story just yet; let it unfold. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing my fics!

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I wake in the morning and stretch my legs out to the side of the bed that is usually empty. I let them glide underneath the sheets, feeling around a territory that is unknown to my body as I usually stay so contently on one side. For a good while that side of the bed was taken; it was occupied almost every night by a warm body, my ex, my coworker; well I guess I could call him a friend. It's weird to think that that side of the bed was occupied for a while last night and its even weirder how strange it already feels that it is once again empty. But then again, it almost feels normal, to have him here for a while and then for him to be suddenly gone.

I'm afraid that I have gotten used to it, him coming over late at night and crawling into my bed and then leaving shortly after we have made love. I'm not even sure you could call it that. Technically, I wouldn't say we're making love all those nights that he sneaks into my bedroom. It's sex, that's it. We have sex and then he leaves. We use each other to feel good, and then we go our separate ways. And then the next day we pretend that it didn't happen, and then I'll see him again that night at my door.

For him I think that our sexual encounters are an escape, a way to get away from the darkness in his life, a way for him to continue to deny that he's hit a rough patch. It's a way for him to feel good without feeling emotional, a release that makes his body feel good because his heart is so wounded. For me, it's the feeling, the way that he knows my body so well; the fulfillment that I somehow think that only he can give me. It's having sex with someone I'm comfortable with, someone that I know physically and mentally. And it's sex, just sex. We're good at it together, we always were.

It's a different experience now than it used to be though. When we were in a committed relationship it was tender and loving, never rushed and always exciting. Now, it's hard and blank and animal like. We attack each other and drown into one another, no talking, no cuddling, no staring into each others eyes. He touches me differently, even the way he glides his hands over my body seems less intimate. We have sex and lay silently in recovery, before he gets up and leaves in a haste.

It's still quite odd that our relationship has turned to this. Years ago we were the best of friends, then lovers, and now screw buddies. We meet at night to use each other, and I still can't believe that we go through with it. Every time we do it the same thing happens, we both know the drill by now. We feel regret, I see it in his face the way he looks at me sometimes. He wants me to know that he's sorry. He's sorry for using me, for the disrespect, the disrespect we have for each other and for ourselves. We're sorry for what this relationship has turned out to consist of.

I find it strange that after so long apart I can still see down to his soul, I can still tell that deep down he cares about me, and I know he can see it in my face too. It rises to the surface, now and again, a hint that tells me that he still cares, a look in his eyes when were having sex, or the way that he'll forget for a moment and touch me like he used to. And soon after I can see the regret in his eyes, a trigger that he has just told himself that he shouldn't touch me that way, he shouldn't kiss me the way that he did before, it's too intimate.

I walk into the hospital at half past seven, tired and a bit cranky from my lack of sleep last night. I shove my stuff into my locker and grab my lab coat out, throwing my stethoscope over my shoulders. I walk out of the room and right by Carter, smiling a friendly hello as I pass him on my way to my first patient. We are past the point of avoidance by now and we have both have accepted that this is how it's going to be. When we first started sleeping together it was awkward when we would see each other the next day at work. Now it's normal, we don't hide from one another but we don't seek each other out either. It's this thing that we do when we're not at work, we sleep together and no one knows about it, no one even suspects it and neither one of us would give it away. We don't pull each other into empty exam rooms and make out secretly; we don't meet for lunch and walk along the river holding hands. There is no passion and no sweet embraces; we don't enjoy the same things that a relationship offers, at work, or in our homes for that matter.

My shift is a long one today and it has proven so far to be quite boring. It's friday and it's usually pretty busy the day before the weekend, but today is almost painfully slow. I walk out into the ambulance bay, wrapping my coat tightly around my body and inhaling the cool, crisp air. I notice Carter sitting on the bench outside and for a minute I contemplate going over and sitting down next to him. After all, a little conversation could never hurt. We haven't been talking so much lately, well really, ever since we started sleeping together. It seems that all we can do right together is have sex, everything else has faded away. For one hour, a couple nights a week we are close, the rest of the week we are strangers that smile in passing or occassionally we'll work together with a patient. It's odd, really, I think about how you could define our relationship all the time. There are so many instances in my head that I use to figure us out. If there was a crisis at the hospital and the place was in flames, would he call my name and find me? If he was playing hero and had to chose one person to save, would it be me? I simply don't know.

I hate how we are now, its meaningless, the way we use each other and leave; it isn't right. This wasn't the direction that our relationship was supposed to take. Our friendship used to mean more to us than sex, now it's sex that has taken the place of a friendship. I could sleep with anyone and ignore them the next day, why does it have to be someone that I care about. How did John Carter end up being this person in my life?

I walk up to him slowly, giving him a look that asks if it's okay that I sit down. He smiles, almost embarrassed, his way of saying, 'of course, I wont bite'. Its not that I'm afraid of him, it's just awkward to hang out with him, to talk to him and ask him how he is when I see him almost every night. I take a seat, crossing my legs, lifting my coffee cup up to my lips.

"How are you?" He asks me before I can ask him, as I sip the bitter liquid. I look up at him and smile and we both role our eyes, sharing a little laugh with each other at our stupid situation.

"Okay . . . How are you?"

"Gettin' there" He shakes his head as I suddenly start to remember how this all happened. It was him that came to me, he was the one that reached out. He was depressed and hanging by a thin thread after Kem left. I know that's where his answer came from. He's 'gettin' there', he's starting to feel better about being alone, the memory of her starting to fade from something that was so present to something that's completely unreachable. He's starting to accept the idea of being without her.

I look up at him and smile warmly, wanting him to see the side of me that could be more than just sex. I want him to know that we could still turn this around, there are other ways for me to comfort him that don't involve sexual pleasure. I just hope that we haven't completely destroyed any chance of that happening.

I wonder when he'll embrace his loneliness. I wonder when he'll stop coming to me for the little pleasure that lets him forget all the pain he feels. And I wonder how I'll feel when that time has come. . .


	3. Sea of colors

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AN: Thank you to everyone that reviewed! I love hearing what you think. It's incredible how many of you mentioned that you wanted to see the next chapter of "Lonely hearts"! Thanks for all the encouragement. I am working on it; it should be up in a week or two. So for now, I hope you enjoy this story. Thanks!

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I look up at Abby as she processes my simple answer. "Getting' there", that's all I said, but I can tell that she's contemplating what she is going to say to me next, or she's pouring over the meaning of my response to her question. I notice her look to the distance and I caulk my head at her, making her meet my gaze, asking her silently what she's thinking.

"Sorry" She shakes her head out and rubs her eyes. "I'm exhausted"

I could tell that she was thinking intensely, her tiredness was probably just an excuse for drifting away. Although I would understand why she's so tired, we were up pretty late last night. I smile understandingly at her and take her coffee cup out of her hands, lifting it to my lips to take a sip.

"Careful, it's hot" She cautions me before I swallow the brew and return it to her hands. I look over at her, raising my brows as a thank you, as she lifts her body and pulls her leg underneath her, sitting back down on it. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out as I watch her struggle to find her words.

"Carter, I-

Just as she starts to speak, I spot Kerry walking out the double doors and over my way. My gaze diverts to her and Abby looks up, stopping before she can get out what she wanted to say.

"Abby, your patients' labs are back. Treat em and street em, come on"

I roll my eyes at Dr. Weaver as Abby gets up. She looks down at me and smiles lightly, motioning her head toward the entrance to the ER, before she starts to walk away. I look down at the ground, a little bummed that she's leaving because for a moment it looked like we were on the brink of having a real conversation.

"Abby" I make a last minute decision to call to her as she heads back through the double doors. I watch her turn around quickly, her long blond hair bouncing over her shoulders like a shampoo commercial.

"Yea?"

"What were you gonna say?"

She looks lost for a second, like she almost got away with not having to say what she was going to. I watch her walk half way back to me as she plays with the corners of her lab coat. I know that she's thinking and she's staring blankly, standing in the middle of the ambulance bay buying time.

"Oh, um . . . I was just gonna tell you that I'm covering for Chuny tonight."

She raises her hand in the air like it was no big deal, but I can tell that that wasn't what she was going to say before. It's crazy, really, what that tiny little statement means to us, the fact that I immediately understand what it means gets to me even more. I shouldn't show up at her door late tonight because she won't be there. But it was nice of her to let me know that, considering that I probably would have been there knocking, wondering where she was. I nod my head at her and look down at the floor once again, wishing that she hadn't offered to fill in. Maybe it's a good thing though, that she isn't going to be available tonight. Maybe that means that this time I might actually follow through with my plan to stop showing up at her door. Maybe this night will end our vicious cycle.

The walls of my new house are still covered with strips of paint samples. This is the first thing I see every day when I walk through the front door, swatches of creamy yellows and three shades of blues, forest green and deep purple. Every time I look at the colors I am reminded of what I could have had; a life with a beautiful wife and a brilliant child, someone to always come home to. I think about the day that Kem and I covered the wall with twenty different shades and playfully disagreed on which color we would chose for the nursery.

I find myself thinking of Kem at the most random times, but mostly I think of her when I am alone, when there is nothing and nobody else around. I think about her when I feel sorry for myself and I can't help but wonder if I miss her or if I miss all that would have come with having her in my life; the baby, the wife, the whole package. I would have loved her, I would have loved and cherished our whole family, but how much could I have truly loved her if I am managing to get by with out her? I really don't know, honestly, it's been six months since she's been gone and I still don't know if I miss her, if I would take her back if she wanted me. I just don't know.

I collapse onto the couch, resting my feet on the coffee table as I proceed to stare at the samples. I play this game late at night when the television can no longer hold my attention; if I stare at the wall long enough the colors will run into each other and form a sea of puke brown. I get up from the couch, tired of looking at the hideous color, promising myself that I'm going to paint over it this weekend. I move over to the kitchen to make myself something to eat, a turkey sandwich with nothing on it, considering that I don't have anything else to dress it up with. I eat it quickly and drop back onto the sofa, flicking the television on to explore the cable world. I will do anything to keep myself busy right now, anything that is going to keep me from calling the hospital and asking Jerry to look at the schedule and tell me when Abby is going to be off. Maybe it won't be too late for me to go over to her place if she's off by midnight. Maybe there is some off chance that a miracle will happen and after her shift, she will be knocking on my door.

I don't know what it is. I cant quite figure it out, what it is about her that makes me feel so uninhibited, what it is about being in her bed, her apartment, that makes me feel whole again. Is it that when I'm with her my senses are dulled, my emotions disappear? Or could it be that when I am with her I am taken back to a time when things were simpler. Things were good with her, of course before things went bad. It was just the two of us, and for a while there was nothing else that mattered. There was no anxiety about having children too early and there were no discussions about which private kindergarten we would chose for our toddler or which diaper service we were going to hire.

Before I met Kem I had always known that I wanted to have children with Abby. I always had more confidence in her than she did. I knew that she would be an amazing mother before she even knew that she wanted to be one. I saw the switch in her after I came back from Africa with Kem. I saw that she had matured while I was gone. I watched her grow before my eyes over the next couple months, she has turned into the person that I always knew she could be. I overheard her talking with a patient last week about her newborn baby girl. She was interested, more than I had ever seen. I watched Abby in the distance as she held the baby, whispering sweet baby talk and rocking her in her arms. I was proud of Abby; I could tell that she was growing. I remember coming to her that same evening and resting my head on her naked belly after we had slept together. We never talk much after we have had sex, but she lets me touch her and hold her for a while, like she knows that that's what I need. I remember thinking that if we were a couple she would have asked me what I was doing with my ear to her stomach. I would have told her that I was imagining a baby growing inside of her, that I was watching her hold the newborn baby girl earlier today. I would spoil her secret; I would have told her that I saw the sparkle in her eyes as she ran her fingers over the newborn baby feet.

I remember leaving her house that night; that was the first time that I felt wrong about sleeping with her. It was the first time that I caught myself caring about her and wanting to hold her like I used to. I wanted to kiss her like we used to kiss and I tried so hard not to look in her eyes that night. I couldn't give it away, the emotion that I was feeling; I couldn't let her see that I was caring. Despite my best efforts, I think she did anyway. Everyday I push the ideas out of my head, the thoughts that leak into my brain that I don't only enjoy sleeping with her but I enjoy being with her. I like being in her presence; I feel safe with her. She doesn't know it, but I cherish so much the time I spend holding her in her bed. It makes me feel real, like I have this outlet to through all my feelings at. I use her as a well, a well to hold everything that I am afraid to share with the outside world. I don't voice my feelings to her, we don't even talk, but I know that she knows me and somehow when I have left her, I feel that we have shared everything; and in other ways, we have shared nothing but our bodily fluids.

I remember the first time I went to her. It was months ago, but it's still fresh in my mind. There have been so many nights since then that I have gone over and crawled into her bed, but that one night I remember clear as day. I had bumped into her at a meeting earlier that day. Literally, I bumped into her, causing her to spill her coffee. I remember the way she looked at me, the hot coffee dripping down her hands, but she didn't even wince. She looked directly into my eyes and held my gaze. I saw worry in her face and I knew automatically that she knew I was using again. I didn't have to say anything to her, I didn't have to sit her down and have a long drawn out discussion. She just knew, and she took my hand and sat me next to her. We didn't talk, from the minute that I apologized for spilling her coffee until the meeting was over.

I think that this is how we communicate now. We haven't talked since before that meeting. We slept together that night and somehow our sexual actions have become like a language for us. I often wonder, could we be so incredibly intimate that there is no need for language? Or could we be so far removed from one another that there just isn't anything to say? I remember grabbing her hand as she started to walk off to her car after the meeting was over. I looked at her and pleaded with my eyes for her to bring me in, for her to save me some how; I thought that she had the power to resuscitate me. In a way she did, but she wasn't strong enough to take it all away. She gave me the power to feel only when she is near. She's like this source of strength, a willow of clarity that I can only draw from when I'm in her presence.

I wonder if she knows that I think about her. I wonder if she understands that I need her, and the only way I know how to have her is to have her body. I wouldn't expect her to know it though, I haven't given her many clues that there's emotion behind our late night rendezvous. I know that she notices my mistakes sometimes though, the times when I kiss her a little too passionately and the times when I hold her too close to me. She questions it, with her eyes. Maybe it's her way of telling me to back off, not to get emotional. I haven't even considered yet the fact that she is probably using me the way she thinks I'm using her.


	4. When your eyes say it

I am reposting this chapter because for some reason it isn't showing up on the ER page. I'm not sure whats going on, but hopefully it worked this time.

Chapter Four: Yes, still angsty, but getting there . . . I promise! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I turn the key in the sticky lock on my front door, pushing my body against it with all its strength to get the damn old thing to bust open. Walking into the apartment I cringe at the cold night air, this place is always freezing every time I get home from working a double. I move over to the furnace and bang on it a couple times to get it going; all of the sudden I feel like I live in the dark ages. Pulling my beanie off my head, I let my dirty hair fall from the hat as I walk into my bedroom and start to pull off the rest of my clothes. Looking around the room I spot a cap sitting on top of my dresser. It's black with forest green trim and I can smell it from where I'm standing, I smell him from across the room. I pick up the cap and bring it to my nose, inhaling the scent that's soaked into the wool. I always loved how Carter smelled and how everything that he would touch would smell like him. I used to burry my face in his neck and sniff his scent; I would park myself there like an ostrich with her head in the sand. The first thing I noticed when I met him was that he smelled like my ex-husband and the first thought I had after we kissed for the first time in the trauma room was that now it would be appropriate for me to suggest a new scent. We shared a laugh when I told him that he smelled like my ex and we quickly made our way to the mall to choose a new cologne. I remember smelling every scent in the department store and playfully spraying them on my boyfriend as he scrunched his nose.

I set the beanie back on the dresser, suddenly aware that I am standing in my bedroom freezing my naked butt off. I run into the bathroom and flick the shower on, quickly jumping under the hot water to warm myself up. As soon as the water hits me my body goes limp, the tiredness from working a nineteen hour day finally settling in. I wash my hair and body quickly before I slide down the shower door and sit on the bottom of the tub, letting the water hit my body from above. Laying my head back against the cold tile I close my eyes for a bit, but am jolted out of an almost unconscious state when I hear a faint knocking at my front door. I sit up and listen closely confirming that there is in fact someone at my door. Rolling my eyes, I get out of the tub and into my robe, running a brush through my wet hair before looking through the peephole to see who it is. I lift myself up on my toes and look out into the dimly lit hall. Of course its Carter, who else would it be at this late hour.

I pull my robe tighter around my body before opening the door with a little bit of a confused look on my face. I wasn't really expecting that he would come over tonight, but lately with Carter, you never know. This is the routine for us, he shows up and we exchange comic glances, ones that break the ice a little because otherwise the mood is way too heavy. Somehow I am always surprised to see him though, probably because every time we sleep together I think it might be the last.

I raise my brow at him and he mimics my expression, pushing the door open so he could brush past me. I walk in behind Carter and follow him into the bedroom as he takes his jacket off and throws it on the bench at the end of my bed. He sits down at the edge of the mattress and starts to pull at the tie of my robe, smiling as he watches it loosely fall open. He slips one hand inside and trails his fingers along my stomach before snaking his arm around my waist to bring me closer to him. He brings the other hand up to push the robe off my shoulders and he holds me in between his legs, bringing his lips up to my stomach to place gentle kisses across it. I feel him smile against my skin and I look down at him right before he looks up at me. Meeting his eyes for a second, I look away quickly, noting that we have just broken one of our rules; no eye contact.

I close my eyes and ignore his stare, bringing my hand up to his body to shrug his shirt off of his shoulders, only to open them and notice him still looking at me, trying to make eye contact again. I look back at him for a moment in total confusion. Its like he's trying to get something out of me, a secret, something that I don't want to share and its making me feel uncomfortable and totally vulnerable. I look away again, like its blinding to look right at him. I feel like I want to run and I don't understand why he's doing this all of the sudden. I move to get out of his grasp but he grabs my waist and brings me back to him, pulling me down to kiss him, shrugging off the attempt to connect with me the way he was trying to. We fall onto the bed and in no time he is undressed and on top of me. We melt into one another and for a while he has gone back to the usual way we do this. No cuddling, no caressing, no eye contact. This feels much safer.

A while later our love making starts to rise to a peek, our kissing starting to get a little too passionate. Getting caught up in the moment myself, I let him hold me closer, I let him touch me completely and look into my eyes. A minute later, I know it's a mistake though. He opened a door and I didn't slam it in his face quick enough. I let him turn this into an emotional affair when all it was supposed to be was a physical outlet, a way for us not to hurt each other. But here we are in my bed making love instead of screwing.

For a moment I indulge in this. I enjoy the slowness of intimate love making and the feeling of his lips on mine the way we used to kiss. For only a split second we experience this exactly the way we used to. There is passion and intimacy and emotion until I feel him gently squeeze my arm twice. I snap out of our emotional entanglement quickly, his touch triggering a memory that irks me to the core and I abruptly throw him off of me. When we were together we used to squeeze each others arms twice at random times, passing each other in the hall at the hospital or when we were sitting in a dark movie theater. It was this thing we did to remind each other that we are here, that we love each other. Two squeezes were our way of communicating when it wasn't the appropriate time to do so in other ways.

"Don't" I say it firmly but quietly as I pull the blankets up to cover my naked body like a scared little girl. His eyes burn into me and I can tell that he knows exactly what he did wrong. He knows exactly why I pushed him away. Its not that it doesn't feel good to make love to him this way, its just too close and deep down I'm afraid that it's going to feel too good. I'm afraid that I'm going to get hurt.

"I'm sorry" He puts his hands up like I have just caught him robbing a liquor store, his face full of apology as he shows me his palms so I know that he won't touch me like that again. He moves closer to me to ease back on top of me but I don't move. I can't finish this tonight and I can't have him here in bed with me. I have finally realized our boundary.

"I think you should go" I whisper it into the air and try not to look directly at him because what I really want is for him to crawl back into bed and make love to me with all the passion that we just experienced. But I know that I can't do it; my heart just can't keep up with my body.

I lie against the headboard and watch him get up, my eyes on him as he gathers his clothing and slips them back on. He sits on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on and I turn over onto my side, away from him, not wanting to watch him leave. I close my eyes and try to drift away, waiting until I feel the dip in the bed that will let me know that he has gone.


	5. After the Rain

Well hello again!! I know you all probably hate me because the last time I updated was so so long ago, but I am back with a new chapter and I want to thank everybody that kept reviewing and asking where I have been! It took me forever to write this because I just felt that every draft I wrote was not good enough. So here it is . . . the next chapter of After the Rain. Because it has been so long, I do recomend that you read the last chapter again before you start this one. This chapter takes place a week after the last and this one is Carters POV. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading!

(And also, I am working on the next chapter of The Lonely Hearts Club, but that might take a while. Let me know if you are still interested in my continueing that story)

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Last night it rained for the first time this season after the weather has been especially warm coming off of the summer months. The temperatures have been staying pretty high as we move into the fall season but today's weather was the first indication for the wet and icy season we can look forward to. After the first rain the street is slick with oils that have been waiting to surface and wash away, the pavement shining like silver dust has fallen from the heavens. I walk across the street and jump over a few puddles, reminding myself that I love this time of year, when it has just gotten hot enough to make me miss the cold that we usually dread, when we can finally see our breaths again in the chilly night air. I'm sure that in a couple weeks I'll regret wishing for the rain, but for now anyway I think the darker climate would better suit my moods.

It's been almost a week since I left Abbys house after she threw me out. I'm not sure what I was thinking or what came over me in that instant when I found myself holding onto her too tight. What I do know is that she let herself respond to me, just for a moment, we both let ourselves travel back to a time to when our love making was passionate and intimate, gentle and full of emotion. It was the best thing that I have felt in a long time, of course until she threw me out.

I knew that that would happen. I knew that if I tried to get too close to her she would push me away and she did exactly that, she pushed me out of her bed and out of her life. Now it feels like that night was months ago. I feel like it's been forever, although it has only been a week, I feel like I haven't touched her, I haven't felt her close to me in ages. Everyday that I go without being close to her I begin to crave her more. I begin to think about what could have been and why things went so sour. I never knew that being without her would make me want her more. I thought that if we ended our cycle I could just move on and my need for her would dissipate, but everyday that goes by it hurts even more to not feel her.

Heading towards the hospital, I spot her figure in the distance. She's standing in the ambulance bay smoking a cigarette and letting the wind blow through her hair, looking the other way out towards the river, no clue that I am watching her as I approach the entrance. Brushing past her, I do everything I can to get her to look my way, anything I can to just get her to lift a brow at me. But I can't catch her attention; she's transfixed in one of those Abby stares, that intense state when you can tell that she's working something out in her head. She looks beautiful, her long blond locks flowing in the wind, her ruby red lips exhaling long icy lines of smoke into the crisp air. I stop and turn around at the other side of the doors to look out at her, and I wonder if there is any chance that she's thinking about me. Could she be thinking about the same things that I am; how it felt good to fell the passion that we once had; how for one instant she felt safe in my embrace again? Is it possible that she is mulling over the steps that we could possibly take to get this relationship back?

She throws her cigarette to the ground and steps over it lightly before she turns around quickly and catches me watching her. I stand there for a moment like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move as her gaze burns into mine. She digs her hands back into her pockets and lowers her head a little, looking up at me as she walks back toward the hospital. She pushes the door open and steps by me, smiling shyly at me as if I am someone that she has never met.

"Hi" I blurt it out like it is the first word I have ever spoken to her and somehow I feel like it is. Probably because I haven't talked to her this whole week, but have longed to hear her voice since she kicked me out of her bedroom that night.

"Hey" She replies calmly, slipping her arms out of her jacket and throwing it over her shoulder. I don't know what to say to her and suddenly I find myself shy. I've been wanting to talk to her so badly but I haven't thought of anything significant to say. There isn't really anything to say to her - hmm . .. Sorry for trying to make love to you when we were only supposed to be using each other for sweaty sex? Sorry for feeling emotions when I wasn't allowed to?

She walks past me and I turn on her heel, searching for words, anything at all to get her to acknowledge me again. "Abby?"

She turns around swiftly, her blond locks fanning out in the air; I think she's surprised that I am calling her back to me.

"Are you going to the meeting at seven?"

"I don't know . . . If I get off in time," She shakes her head "Maybe"

I shake my head too. "Well, um . . . maybe I'll uh . . ." I stop mid sentence, motioning my hands to finish it for me. She lifts her brow and smiles politely before moving past me a little uncomfortably. Why is it that I never know what to say?! Why couldn't I just have thought of something witty, or something funny to make her laugh? I'm such an idiot!

* * *

I walk into the meeting and immediately I am scanning the crowd, desperate to find Abby among the sea of addicts. After searching the room for her the speaker walks up to the podium and I take a seat in the back next to an empty chair, hoping that if Abby comes late, she'll sit in the space that I have saved. The speaker starts going over the 12 steps, the same ones that I know by heart after four years of hearing them way too often. On step nine I start to zone out, my thoughts turning to the exact things that you aren't supposed to think about during these meetings, work and the foundation, Kem and my son, my grandparents, Abby.

I wish that these meetings made it all go away, everything that drives us all to these addictions, and not just the addictions themselves. You can take away the substance at any time and curb a craving to get near it, surely I have proven that. But you can never get rid of the reason you that you seek it out. They will always be there, those little pin points in the back of your head that push you to give in to your temptation. Lately they are everywhere I look and down every pathway that I take, a different day and a different excuse waiting to push me into using again.

The door creaks open and I turn around quickly in my chair to watch as a few stragglers walk into the meeting on step 11. Turning back around, I sigh heavily, let down that she hasn't made it and I wouldn't expect her now because she usually wouldn't come late. Abby would just catch the next meeting, and I can't help but feel guilty that the real reason I am here tonight was to see her and not to work on my sobriety. The door creaks open again and I tell myself that I will only look over my shoulder this one last time, after this I will forget about the fact that every time I hear the door open it could be her. . . but there she is. . .arriving on step 12, her cheeks flushed with hurry as she scans the room for a seat. I smile shyly at her as she catches my eye, noticing the empty seat next to me. She makes her way over to me and for a moment I am glad that she is late. There is no pressure to start a conversation; all this hello requires is a smile and a nod.

An hour later the meeting is halfway through and the second speaker has just started telling us his story. I look up from my day dreaming when his story starts to interest me; it's almost like mine. His pregnant wife delivered a still born baby and left him shortly after, unable to deal with the grief of loosing a child. I sit in my chair and listen intently at what this man is saying, the heartbreak in his voice palpating the thickness in the air that somehow only I can sense. I look down at my hands and squeeze them closed, an itch in the back of my throat starting to bring a little moisture to my eyes. Opening my eyes, I notice that my hands have started to quiver in my lap and I simply can't control them until I feel a hand over mine, steadying the vibrating. I look over to Abby and she gives me a sympathetic and shy half smile, squeezing my hand in hers as I silently thank her for the contact. And just like that, with the simple touch of her hand, she has taken away the shakes and left me with a warm and comforting feeling to replace them. I squeeze her hand back and look up at her, watching her listen to the speaker until she notices my gaze burning into her. She then turns her attention towards me and quickly looks down at our intertwined hands and then back up into my eyes with an uncomfortable stare. It's almost as if she forgot for a moment that she was upset with me and I can tell that there is a war going on in her head. She wants to comfort me because she feels my sadness, but she's afraid that any closeness will lead us back to one of our bedrooms. And I know her too well; she's still upset with me about our last encounter and I'm pretty sure that she doesn't want to have another one.

"I'm sorry" I whisper it into the air between us, the words coming out of my mouth before I can think about what I am saying. This isn't exactly the right time to apologize for my behavior but I can't stand the look I see in her face, the doubt that I know she is feeling for holding my hand in hers. I can't stand being close to her and knowing that she's selflessly suffering through it for my benefit. She runs her thumb over my finger and nods her head lightly with a sad smile playing on her lips, a sweet expression that lets me know that somehow everything will be okay; maybe not today, but someday. Moments later, her eyes return to the speaker to listen to the end of his story, but she leaves her hand in mine, squeezing it every so often until the meeting is over an hour later.

"Do you uh, want to get a cup of coffee or something?"

I lightly tap Abby on the arm as she gets up to leave and she turns around, looking at me in speculation, I think wondering what my motives are for the evening. It's weird though because I'm not seeking sex from her tonight, tonight I want her company and her friendship more than anything physical. I raise my brow at her and grab her hand in mine, caulking my head, asking her to answer me but pulling her towards the door. She rolls her eyes and lets me take her hand to lead her through the parking lot out to the coffee cart on the corner.

As we walk down the street, coffee cups in hand, I notice that it has rained again while we were in our meeting. The streets are slick with water and they are bare, the pouring rain having scared everyone back into their safe homes. It's a quiet and peaceful night and all I can seem to hear is the sound of our feet hitting the floor as we walk down the moonlight pavement.

"Where are we going?" Her voice breaks me out of my trance like state, it's the first thing that she has said to me since this morning, and even though the question wasn't a great starter for conversation, I am glad that her silence has been broken.

"My new place is on the next street" I motion in the direction that we are heading and she stops in the middle of our path and looks down at the street, suddenly uncomfortable and looking like she is about to start running in the other direction.

"Its late . . . I should probably head home" She motions her head in the other direction and I walk back to her and grab her hand gently.

"We're not going there for that. I have something else in mind."

She gives me a skeptical look and I just smile at her, yanking her hand to get her to continue following me down the street. "Come on, trust me"

* * *

We enter the newly furnished home and Abbys eyes dart around the living room, taking in the new place. I sense that she's a bit uncomfortable and for a moment I almost feel bad about bringing her here. This is a place that I shared with another woman, a woman that as far as she knows, I still haven't gotten over and I know that it'll be a long while until she believes otherwise. I shrug it off for now and walk into the house, motioning for her to follow me through the entrance. She takes her time and slips her jacket off before sticking her hands in her pockets and walking into the den behind me. Looking back at her, I notice that she's paying close attention to her surroundings and I can't help but wonder if she is looking for signs of the old John Cater. I wish he was here.

She follows me around the coffee table and takes a seat on the other side of the couch as she looks around the living room and runs her hand over the new sofa cushions. She looks confused for a moment and then looks over to me with a shrug of her shoulders and a questioning stare.

"So why did you bring me here."

"I just wanted to show you the place . . . and talk to you"

"What do you want to talk about?" She's calm and quiet, almost dazed, but so sweet and innocent looking and I am doing everything I can to resist reaching out and touching her.

"I don't know . . . anything . . . I just want to be your friend again. . . I feel like we don't remember how to do this anymore." I motion my hand between her and me and she nods her head because she probably knows that I'm right. We have forgotten how to be friends. I need her to know that I still want that and I miss it terribly. I miss it more than anything else that has been taken away from me. I move down the couch to close the large distance between us, and for the first time this evening there is no doubt in her expression. I look up at her and hesitate for a moment, thinking about the way things used to be. "Remember when it was so easy . . . sitting at docs after a shift, or drinking coffee by the river" She looks up at me and smiles sadly before covering her hand with mine and hesitating a moment before she speaks.

"Well I think I remember how to do this" I glance down at her hand and I flip it over to fold it into mine and run my fingers over her knuckles. She smiles beautifully, and right in this very moment I know that she is sincere; I know that she has forgiven me for my stupid actions. I smile back at her and look around the room feeling that I need to lighten the mood a little bit. I motion my hands out to the living room before getting up from the couch and turning around to face her.

"So what do you think?"

She looks around the den and then back at me with a smile. "I think the walls would look better if they were all one color"

I lean down to the floor to pick up a paint brush and toss it her way. "Well good thing you're still in your scrubs"

She catches it in her hands and looks from me to the wall with wide eyes. I think I see relief in her face though, she really knows now that I didn't bring her here to get her into my bed. I brought her here because I want to be her friend. It's hard to resist the romantic feelings I have for her, but if I ever want to be close to her again, I know that we have to start with friendship. That's where our intimacy always came from, the years of being there for each other as friends, the years of bonding over coffee and pie at Mcgoos and walking down the river after our shifts.

I open a jug of fresh ivory paint and throw her a mischievous grin. Abby looks at me and laughs, kneeling down to the ground to dip her brush into the tin and I know that this is how we will start over, by painting the walls.


	6. An Open Wound

OOOOKAY!!! Here is the next chapter of "After the Rain". I am so so sorry that this took forever! I wrote the whole thing and lost it, and then started it all over again. I have become so critical of my work that I have waited a while to post this. I just wanted it to be perfect. A couple weeks ago I spent some time going over some of my old reviews and they have motivated me so much to keep writing my stories; so thank you to all of you that leave positive and constructivefeedback, you make me want to keep writing and writing . . . I promise that the next chapter will not take this long to get out. I have already started it and am about half way through it. I hope you all like this chapter. Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!

* * *

"An Open Wound" 

It's been four weeks since my relationship with Carter has come full circle, four weeks since we stopped sleeping together and started listening to each other instead. A whole month ago our relationship changed from being strangers that have sex into friends that have coffee. We painted his walls in our scrubs and in those moments it was like our relationship was restored and we were taken back to the time when we were the closest of friends. We talked all night in our paint soaked scrubs; we laughed and shared memories. We caught up on the things that we were missing from each others lives in the past year. Four weeks later we are exactly what we were almost four years ago, friends that meet for lunch and walk by the river together.

I remember I knew it all along and I was just waiting for the ball to drop. I was waiting for Carter to realize that we couldn't continue to sleep together and hurt each other. I think it took him a long time to experience how something that felt so good could suddenly feel so horrible. But I saw it in his eyes a few weeks ago, a softness in his face that let me know he finally understood that we couldn't go on like that forever. I could see, for the first time in a long time that he still cared about me, that he didn't want to hurt me any more than he already had.

Its only been a little while since his realization in the middle of the AA meeting that we attended together, and a simple apology has carried us all the way back to a deep friendship. Although I'm glad that our relationship has returned to our friendly boundaries I would be lying if I said that I didn't miss our late night rendezvous or the warmth that his body brings to my bed. There is still a small part of me that perks up just a bit when I hear keys jingle in the hallway outside my front door; there simply are times when I wish that things hadn't turned out this way. And then there are times when I catch him staring at me from across the hospital, a gesture that reminds me that we aren't so far removed from our emotional bond as I thought we were. We still stare. We still look at each other like we belong to one another, we still share our glances and our co workers still think, despite the fact that we both have denied it, that there is something between us. I think this is how things will always be, at least until one of us starts dating again. I think that there will always be a charge of electricity between us, this unexplained force that not only pulls us to each other, but attracts the attention of others.

Three is so much that I value about our relationship now, so many things that I wouldn't change, things that were impossible to have when we were using each other. I meet him for coffee in the mornings before we start our days and bring him food late at night in the middle of his shifts. I accompany him to his various charity events and he comes over to fix my stuck and stubborn shower door. We have late night binge sessions in his new kitchen and often we accompany each other to AA meetings. We have a good time together; we feed off of each other, nurture and rely on one another.

* * *

I grab my rain coat from the lounge and step out into the ambulance bay for a much needed break, the cold air filing my lungs with a sensation almost as satisfying as a cigarette. The heavens have been weeping for nights on end and often carrying on into my first morning break. I watch as the fat drops of water create mini lakes in the street and I suddenly can't remember the last day that it didn't rain.

Pulling my jacket up over my shoulders I brace myself to step out from underneath the honing. As I run across the street I spot Carter in the distance, approaching the Jumbo Mart underneath a giant black umbrella. He calls out to me and I run toward him, noticing his soft and easy expression as I get closer and closer.

"Forget your umbrella?" He grabs my waist and pulls me in close to him, wrapping his arms around me to bring me under his shelter from the rain.

"It got stolen out of the lounge!"

"That's a county hospital for ya." We smile at each other as Carter opens the door, pushing me ahead of him so I can get out of the cold and into the warm coffee shop. I sit opposite Carter in a booth intended for more than two people. The coffee usually sucks here, but the company is what I'm here for. I look around the mart and for a moment I get lost in my head, thinking about the old Doc Mcgoos, the many sips of coffee we have had here in this spot, the way this place is so different, how the ghost of Docs is so present. It was this spot on earth where we became friends, in an old dingy diner, but now everything old seems new again.

"So Kem's pregnant again." Carter blurts it out of nowhere and I am jolted out of my thoughts; for a moment I am shocked at his confession, my response coming out uncontrollably accusingly.

"When were you with Kem?" .

"I wasn't. I'm not. It's not mine. She got back together with her ex-boyfriend . . . and she's due in August." He raises his eyebrows and smiles it off, picking up a spoon and stirring a pack of sugar into his coffee. I lean my back against the booth to rest off my near panic attack, reminding myself to explore later on why exactly I had a bit of a freak out when I thought that John was seeing Kem again. I wait a little while and let the news sink in as I search his face for any hints of how he is feeling about this situation. He lifts his coffee to his lips and sips it slowly, lowering it back down to the table and shrugging his shoulders.

"You seem okay about it." I offer my words with a sad smile, my expression hopeful and easy.

"I am. I'm over her." He answers quickly and I just keep my gaze on his, waiting for him to say something else because for some reason I know there is more.

" . . . I don't even know if I ever really was in love with her."

I look away for a minute, surprised at this confession and almost unsure of how to respond. He saves me though with his next statement.

"I guess I'm a little jealous. She gets to have a baby now and I don't. I was really looking forward to being a father and she's going to be a mother now." He shakes his head no, almost as if he feels bad for being envious, but then he continues trying to explain himself. "Only in retrospect do I realize that I wasn't truly in love with her, but if the baby lived we probably would have been a happy family. I could have made it work."

"How happy would your family have been if you didn't have love John? Is just 'making it work' really what you would have settled for?"

"I guess it wouldn't have been the ideal family." He laughs a little at himself before rubbing his hands over his tired eyes. "We probably would have ended up getting divorced or . . . resenting each other or I don't know . . . Our children would have hated us."

He looks away for a moment like he wants to give up on the conversation and I know that he's searching for the silver lining here. He's reaching to find something, anything to give some meaning to his current loneliness. I grad his hand and make him focus again, determined to turn his uneasiness into hope. For a few moments there is a silence as we gaze at each other, his hand squeezing mine tightly. I offer him a hopeful smile and then decide to break the silence, offering him a different way to look at his situation.

"Maybe it just wasn't supposed to happen for you that way."

"What do you mean?" He folds my hand into his and pulls it closer to his side of the table, getting comfortable on his side of the booth with a little piece of me attached.

"Maybe it's supposed to happen in the more traditional way. You know . . . Boy meets girl, they fall in love, get married, have children . . . in that order." He laughs at my attempt to poke a little fun at him and for a moment I am relieved that he found it amusing instead of mocking, so I take a deep breath and continue on, this time in a more serious manner. "You are going to find that person Carter, and when you have children with her, it will be even more beautiful because you will have them with someone that you truly want to spend the rest of your life with."

He smiles as he looks down at our fingers intertwined and for a moment I wonder if he is envisioning that that woman can be me. I wonder if he still thinks of me that way, if he is still hopeful that this relationship will blossom into something that has never truly been present, but looms over us like a cloud threatening to rain. He lifts his eyes off of our hands and meets my gaze, smiling again before he responds with a scratch in his voice.

"How is it that you always know how to make me feel better?"

"Well, I'm your best friend" I answer in the most honest way I can think of, a smile lighting up Carters face as I feel his feet meet mine under the table.

"Thanks for that. . . I don't know what I would do without you" I hear his words in a low whisper and I am almost straining to understand them, the tone of his voice soft and shy. I squeeze his hand once more before I start to gather my jacket and purse, noticing that my brake is almost over.

"You'd get by." I rise from the booth and walk over to his side, reaching out to run my hand through his messy hair. "I need to get back" I lean over and lightly grab his cheeks in my hands, pulling his head to me and kissing the top of it, letting my lips linger on the soft fibers of his hair. I turn away from him and he grabs my hand, my arm stretching like a rubber band before he brings me back to his side. I hover over him as he sits in the booth, his eyes looking up at me in an innocent gaze as I lift my brow questioningly. He smiles before he pulls my body to his, resting his head against my stomach with his arms securely wrapped around my waist like a child. He looks up at me and mouths a thank you and suddenly I feel an overwhelming need to take care of him, to take away his discomfort, ease his loneliness, to offer him hope.

"I'll see you later" The words barely escape my mouth, an itch in the back of my throat threatening to burn my eyes. He nods his head and I walk away from him, half of me yearning to turn around and walk back into his arms, the other half wanting to run as far as I can. I continue to walk out of the coffee shop, disregarding my first instinct to run back to his side. Being close to him now is like reopening an old wound, something that I thought had healed long ago. As I walk away from him, my heart aching to be back in his presence, I am realizing in this moment that this wound was bandaged yet left untreated.

* * *

I turn off the lights and crawl under my new flannel bed sheets, the soft patter of raindrops hitting the windows in a comforting symphony. Stretching my body across the bed I try to find a comfortable position, my heavy limbs tired from a hard and long day of work. I toss and turn through the almost too warm sheets, the cold midnight air hitting my shoulders in a sharp contrast to the heat permeating from under my covers. I finally fall into a position that my body agrees with, but of course it's my mind now that can't get settled. I listen as the storm outside begins to intensify, the once soft falling raindrops hitting hard against the window, the shadows from passing headlights rushing over my headboard. In another moment I am thinking about Carter and how on nights like this I would like nothing more than to be curled up next to a fireplace with . . . him. And I am wondering if it is possible to work that into our equation, this friendship we have created, a relationship that we have settled for because we can't seem to have what we really want. 

A knock on the door startles me out of my fading thoughts with a gasp that brings me back to full consciousness. Darting my eyes around the dark room, I wait a beat before I lazily pad across the room and slip into my robe. I lift myself on to my toes to look through the peep hole and there he is, standing in the dark hallway, droplets of water falling from his brow. I pull away from the door and tug my robe tighter around my body before turning the knob and offering a confused smile. His look is tired and a little worn, not completely helpless but a bit needy.

"Something wrong?"

"No" He gives me a shy smile and then turns to look down the long hallway, almost as if he is embarrassed that he has come over and I have to admit, I'm a little confused as to why he is here, but secretly glad that he is.

"Aren't you tired?" I step around the question that I really want to ask and I find that I am having a hard time reading him, his aloof demeanor throwing me off a bit.

"Couldn't sleep." He looks around the apartment and then back at me. "Why are you awake?"

"Couldn't sleep" I mimic his answer and usher him inside, taking his wet jacket from him and running my hand over his brow to wipe off the water that has gathered across his forehead. Once inside the apartment I still speak to him in a whisper, as if there is someone here I wish not to wake. "Do you want me to put on a pot of coffee?"

He nods his head no and I stare at him in utter confusion, waiting for him to give me some kind of idea as to why he is here. This is the first unannounced late night visit that he has paid me in quite some time and one that I didn't expect would come that soon. He looks around the room with a blank expression on his face before he takes my hand in his and leads me toward the bedroom. I follow him closely down the hall, my eyes burning into his back, and I am surprised at how easy it is for him to get me into the bedroom. Carter starts to pull me closer to him before I stop at the door to my room and stare into the darkness, doubts about his intentions reeling in my mind. It seems obvious that he came here for sex tonight but I thought that we were done using each other. We just spent the last four weeks rebuilding our relationship and I can't understand why he would want to ruin that. As I stand here looking over at the window my emotions turn from confusion to anger. I'm hurt and upset and all I want to do is yell and scream at him, but the only emotion I can seem to convey is vulnerability. For the life of me I can't understand why he doesn't realize that we can't have friendship and sex at the same time? It didn't work for us before and it's not going to suddenly start working now.

I lean my body against the door frame and watch Carter take his shirt off before laying it gently over the footboard, the glow of the streetlights casting shadows over his bare chest. For a moment I am tempted to go to him, to fall into his arms and forget about the repercussions of one simple night together, but my feet seem to have deep roots buried under the floor. They're holding me in this place, paralyzing my body as I watch Carter make himself comfortable in my bedroom. My stare turns into a daze and in a flash I am on a whole other planet; my eyes focused on counting the tiny drops of rain that continue to fall onto the window sill. A moment later I sense him staring back at me and my attention is diverted back in his direction. He lifts his brow and shrugs his shoulders, an action that suggests he is waiting for me and not quite understanding why I am frozen at the door way. He walks up to me and places a gentle hand on my shoulder, my skin immediately scorched under his touch.

"Aren't you tired?" His voice comes out in an innocent whisper, a question that catches me off guard. Yes, I'm tired. I'm tired of all of this!

"Yeah" I whisper back at him, not wanting to make eye contact, my voice coming out like a six year old little girls. He tugs my arm to pull me closer to the bed, but I only yank him back to the spot that I'm currently attached to.

"Carter" My voice comes out pleadingly as if I am begging for him not to put me through this. I'm not strong enough to say no to him, my resolve weakening by the second. I close my eyes for a moment and pray that this will pass me right by, removing myself from my body; I'm trying to live outside of it. I feel his breath on my shoulder and open my eyes only to see something that I didn't quite catch a moment ago. I can see it in his eyes that he finally understands why I haven't followed him to the bed. He reaches a finger under my chin and turns my face to look him square in the eyes.

"Abby . . .I just wanted to sleep next to you"

For so many moments I can't find any words in my throat. I just stare at him trying to figure him out, surprised at his declaration.

"Only sleep" It comes out more like a question than I had planned it to sound but the corners of his mouth curl up into a hint of smile, and with his next two words he assures me that his intention for this evening was never at all what I suspected.

"Only sleep"

He echoes my words in a whisper and I look up at him from under my bang, giving him a sweet half smile before he lets my hand go and walks around to what used to be his side of the bed. On the opposite side of him I discard my robe and focus on the ground, my hands instinctively reaching up to protect my bare arms. There is something uncomfortable about peeling this layer off, something that is raw and unlike any other encounter that I have had with Carter. I stand silently wearing a thin tank top and little boy-cut briefs, and although I am not naked, somehow I am completely exposed to him, my arms sprouting goose bumps in the cold night air. He reaches out to me and takes my hand, realizing my discomfort and immediately wanting to shield me from it. I allow him to pull me into the bed close to his body, and the moment my back hits his chest I am put to ease. I feel him pull the sheets over our bodies and tuck them underneath us, wrapping us up like caterpillars in a cocoon. Settling into his arms, I allow myself to feel the warmth of his skin against mine, the comfort that only this man can provide me. Although it doesn't matter, as I lye here in his arms, I know why he is here and I'm learning that tonight is not about sex, this is about comfort and love and sharing closeness in a way that two people that are only friends simply cannot experience.

A few moments later I feel his heart start to slow to a steady rhythm, my eyes becoming weak with every beat against my back. In no time I too enter the world of sleep and dreams, the comforting vibrations of the EL rattling by in the distance.


	7. Perchance to Dream

OH MAN! It took me a little longer to get this chapter out than I thought. Once again, I kept finding paragraphs to rewrite and ideas to slash. But here it is and I so very much appreciate all your reviews and all your encouragement to continue. I think there is only one chapter left of this story and it will be both Carter and Abbys point of views. So look for it . . . I don't know when. But I am working on it. Let me know what you think of this chapter. It's full of angst. But you all know me; I won't keep it that way for very long. Thanks again for reading!

Chapter Seven: "Perchance to Dream"

* * *

_I run through the field calling my children's names, the wind tugging my shirt tight against my chest. I lift my knees high to jump over the tall grass, my eyes following the yellow diamond shaped kite in the sky._

_"You're doing it Jack, you're flying a kite!" I yell out to my oldest child. _

_"Daddy, look how high it is" _

_"Honey, are you seeing this!" Calling out to my wife, I turn around to catch her lying in a bed of grass, her sunglasses on her head as she sits up on her elbows to watch her son flying his first kite. _

_"Good job baby, keep running!" Her voice gets closer and closer until I feel her jump on my back. Instinctively I grab her bare feet and pull them around my waist, running my hands up and down her bare legs. _

_"Mommy, when's it my turn?" My other angel tugs at her mothers' foot from the ground below, her big brown eyes shinning in the sunlight. _

_"Right now sweet pea. Jack, come give your sister a turn!" Abby yells out to our son before whispering into my ear. " John you have to run with her she can't go that fast." Her voice tickles my ear before she kisses my cheek and jumps off my back so I can lift Jessie onto my shoulders. _

_"Hold on Jess were gonna go fast" I take off down the hill, one hand holding Jessie on my shoulders, the other clutching our yellow kite. _

_"Go extra fast daddy"_

_"Careful John" My wife cautions from a distance, her number one job is worrying about me and the kids. _

_A few moments later I jog back up the hill, the kite slowly falling from the sky as I come to a halt at Abbys feet._

_"Mommy, did you see me fly the kite!"_

_"Yes, baby. Jack and I watched from right here!" _

_I let Jessie down and she jumps into her moms lap, Abby attacking her with kisses as they fall over into the grass together. Hovering above them, I watch the tall green ferns engulfs my family, the kids laughing as my wife tickles their little tummies. They are the three most beautiful people in the world. _

I wake with a start and look around the dark bedroom, the clock at the bedside glowing three am. It's been forever since I've had that dream, a dream that I never thought I would have again. It's the same exact dream I used to have every night until Kem and my baby was born still. Months ago the dream was a pleasant fantasy, a scenario that I would play out of my happy family with Kem. It was a beautiful dream that I would will myself to have every night before I fell asleep. It's the same dream now, the same words escaping my mouth. I am running with the same kite, down the same hill and dreaming of a different woman, and children of a lighter complexion. Ten months later, someone else is playing the part of my wife, my beautiful best friend; my friend that I have been sharing a bed with almost every night for the past month.

I catch myself smile in the darkness before I turn over and face the sleeping figure next to me. Reaching out to her, I sweep her hair out of her face and run my hand across her back. I can't believe that I have been sleeping at Abbys apartment almost every night for the past four weeks. It's been nearly thirty days of cuddling under her covers; six weeks of goofing around, AA meetings and coffee, late night conversations and quiet moments by the fireplace. We have had everything that a romantic relationship entails. We eat meals together every chance we get. We have keys to each others homes and combinations to each others lockers. We rent movies and cuddle in front of the television and often end up staying over at each others places, falling asleep in each others embrace. There is a comfortable closeness that we share, a deep care for each other, but an understanding that our physical closeness won't go beyond sleeping in each others arms. Months ago we tried to be friends that casually had sex, but once 'casual' turned into something that was happening every evening the friendship withered away and all hopes for a normal relationship with Abby flew out the window. It wasn't until recently that I realized that we are slowly building our relationship back up, starting at the beginning with a close friendship. Every time we share a meal, every glance from across the hospital, every night that we climb into bed together, we are getting closer and closer. Some might say that it's too close, that it's unhealthy to share a bed with someone and have a boundary that can't be crossed. And even I know that this could be dysfunctional, but I somehow feel so settled when I sleep next to her. And even though I can't touch her the way I yearn to, having her next to me is better than not having her at all.

She stirs a little and changes position in her sleep, causing the comforter to fall loosely around her hips. I lye facing her with my head in my palm, watching her get comfortable, her bare arms sprouting goose bumps. She turns over onto her stomach and thrusts her arms underneath her as I watch her with amusement. She's cold and she doesn't realize that the comforter has been pushed off of her. When her lips start to chatter I stop my ogling and pull her to me, running my hands over her back before grabbing the comforter and placing it back over us.

"Its freezing" She mumbles into my ear and cuddles closer to my chest, the heat radiating off of our bodies and warming each other under the covers.

"Better?"

"Umhmm"

I smile as I run my hands down her bare arms, holding her close to me and using the excuse that she is cold so I can continue touching her. When I glance at her in the darkness, I want to take away everything that could be unpleasant for her. I want to give her the world, to make her happy the way that I see her in my dream. . . . And it is no surprise that I have fallen in love with her all over again.

* * *

I grab the groceries out of the paper bag and start to scurry around the kitchen in an attempt to get dinner started before Abby gets home from a 24 hour shift. She hates working that long so I thought it would be nice to make her dinner, especially since she has taken me in and offered her home to me as my own. As I finish unpacking the bag I hear the familiar sound of keys jingling on the other side of the doorway and a smile creeps onto my face. I still get excited to see her after every time that we are apart. And in this case it's been longer than usual. I slept in her bed alone last night, I could have stayed at my place, but something about just being around her belongings makes me feel closer to her. 

She walks in the door and greets me with a tired smile, surprised to see that I am working in the kitchen.

"Hey, I went to the fish market and brought home some dinner for us."

She raises her eyebrows and heads into the kitchen, inspecting the mess that I'm in the middle of making.

"_You're_ gonna cook that?"

"Yes, _I'm _gonna cook this"

"How do you know how to prepare. ." She flips the package over and reads the label. "Halibut?"

"Well the fish expert guy told me what to do."

"What's the occasion?"

"I just wanted to make you dinner." She jumps onto the counter and lifts her brows, surprised at my slightly romantic gesture and I knock her in the leg playfully so my response doesn't sound too serious.

"I don't know, as a thank you for letting me crash here all the time."

"You don't need to do that . . . but I'll let you anyway." She smiles flirtatiously, although she probably didn't mean to; she sometimes just oozes with cuteness. "And then you can fix the shower door for me. It fell off the track again." Abby shrugs her shoulders with the cutest guilty look on her face. She always asks me to fix her shower; little does she know, it's not hard to do that at all and it's really my pleasure to do anything for her.

"Anything for you, Pumpkin." I reply with snort. I've started to call her cheesy love names as a joke, a different one each time I respond to her requests. I think it's our way of mocking our odd relationship. We share a quick laugh at my latest, (last week it was sugar) before she jumps off the counter and scurries out of the kitchen, dropping her bag on the couch on her way to the bedroom.

"Umm, by the way, do you need some money?" I call out to her as I watch her walk down the short hall.

"What?"

"Like rent. I've been staying here so much that I kinda' feel wrong for not offering sooner." She peaks her head out of the bedroom door and I look up at her, noticing that she's already got most of her work clothing off.

"Carter you paid my tuition last year, I think I owe you one . . .or a gazillion"

She closes the door again and I finish putting the fish in the oven, making my way into the den to relax.

"So, I was asked out today by a patient." She yells from behind her bedroom door and immediately I feel a sting run throughout my whole body.

"Who?"

"Some lawyer with a migraine. I told him that I was married." Abby raises her brows at me as she emerges from the bedroom clad in a pair of drawstrings sweatpants and cozy slippers.

"Liar"

"I know, but I felt bad." I watch her disappear into the kitchen to make some coffee, throwing one last remark over her shoulder. "He was kind of cute."

I cringe as I imagine another man touching her, kissing her, holding her like I do. I wonder what his name was, probably something stuffy like Chaz or Edward, and I begin to wonder when she'll come to realize that neither one of us ever needs to go on another date again.

"So why didn't you say yes?"

She peeks her head around the corner and grabs my attention replying sarcastically, "Oh and bring him over afterward so the three of us can play scrabble."

"If you want to go out with him I'll stay at my place that night." I offer her this just to be polite, but also almost to push her buttons, to let her think that I won't mind her going out with another man. Hmmm . . .what do you call that? Playing hard to get? But there is no way that I could ever feel okay with this. I can't even imagine how I would feel if Abby were to start dating.

"I don't want to go out with him." She laughs at our banter as she plops down on the couch next to me, comfortably resting her feet in my lap. I'm relieved at her answer but I can't help but wonder why she really turned him down. But I'll let it go for now because secretly in my head I'm doing a victory dance celebrating her decline.

Hours later we've finished eating our meal and the kitchen is almost clean as the tea kettle whistles that our water is ready for its tea bags.

"I'll get it, go sit down." Abby offers before she grabs the pot, yanking it from my hands and ushering me out of the kitchen.

"Thanks"

"Thank you again for dinner"

"Anytime"

"What times your shift tomorrow?" She asks as she settles comfortably on the couch next to me, dropping a glob of honey into each of our mugs.

"Six. Do you want me to go home so I don't wake you in the morning?" I silently prey that she won't take me up onmy offer.

"No, you're my personal heating system."

"Oh that's all I'm good for!" I feign being hurt before I playfully throw a pillow at her.

"No, you're also really good at fixing the shower." She smirks, proud of her quick facetious comment, before she grabs the remote and flicks off the television.

"I'm exhausted; I've got to go to sleep." Abby gets up from the couch and starts to walk toward the bedroom, turning around to check to see if I am following her. I smile as I sit there watching her look at me. She caulks her head suggestively, not in a sexy way but in a sweet way. She's waiting for me to come to bed.

I slip my shirt over my head and climb into bed as Abby rummages through her drawers to find something warmer to sleep in. I watch her as she slips the shirt over the wife-beater that she is already wearing and I smile at her expression as she steals a peak of herself in the mirror. She crawls into bed and I pull a pillow to my body and hug it against my chest, a trick that I use often when I am yearning to cross the line. 'Hold the pillow', I tell myself. It will fill my arms while she sleeps so close; it's a placebo affect and hopefully tonight it will work.

I wake in the middle of the night, startled again by my now reoccurring dream, the third night in a row that my mind has played me the same sequences while I sleep. I really don't mind so much having the same dream each night; it's a pleasant fantasy that I often prey will become a reality, my beautiful children and their amazing mother. We would be the happiest family.

I toss my body a few times, getting comfortable next to Abby as I watch her sleep, wishing that I could sleep as peacefully as she does every night. I find myself awake quite often just staring at her and yearning to get closer, hoping that she'll get chilled enough to seek the warmth from my body. Most nights she'll move inside of my embrace, allow me to run my hands down her arms and pull her closer. Other nights, she stays perfectly still on her side of the bed. I try to let her initiate every bit of our closeness when we're in bed together. The last thing I want to do is violate her personal space, although lately it seems that we are sharing the same space.

Tonight she sleeps effortlessly, warm in the extra layer of flannel pajamas that she opted for this cold evening. Abby usually sleeps in a fitted tank top and short sleep shorts, her bare legs occasionally sweeping mine under the covers. There are times when I find it almost painful to stare at her while she sleeps because it's so hard to resist touching her, pulling her into my arms as she lies unconscious. I have to use all the restraint that I can muster and this evening it's just hard not to hold her; it hurts not to feel her and I don't know how much longer I can be so close and not have her completely.

The minutes go by as I watch the clock over Abbys shoulder and I know that I won't be getting back to sleep any time soon. It seems that my body just doesn't want to let go, or my heart just wants to keep watching her as she sleeps. But I need to get away from her right now, the aching becoming too much for me to handle and I'm hopeful that if I'm not in her presence the pain might subside. I get out of bed and pull the covers back over Abby, making sure that she's warm before I gently pad into the living room and turn on a small lamp at the side of the couch. I pull a medical journal from the coffee table and open it in my lap, the words all blurring together under the week hovering light. Rubbing my fingers over my eyes I try to adjust to the bright light contrasted by the darkness in the rest of the apartment. Looking down at the book again, the lines still blur together and I am forced to close it. I place the book back on the coffee table and look up to find the television remote, and there Abby is, standing in the doorway, cocking her head at me. She looks so cute when she's been sleeping, her hair messy around her face, she's swimming in her oversized pajama set.

"Hey" She smiles in the darkness, the weak glow of the lamp light reflecting off her sun kissed skin, her voice raspy, laced with sleep.

"Hi"

"What are you doing on the couch?"

"I couldn't sleep . . . I didn't want to wake you with my tossing and turning . . . Why are you up?"

"I guess I kind of got used to sleeping next you and ya know its kind of cold without my personal heating system." She makes her way over to me and I smile at her joke, secretly glad that she's come to join me in the den in the middle of the night. She taps my feet and I make room for her to sit next to me on the couch, resting my legs back on her lap after she has made herself comfortable. We sit comfortably in the quiet night, sharing a type of silence that is only true at this early hour. For some reason, right now it feels like there is nothing else that matters. There is only a quiet black Abyss beyond the lamp that we're sitting under. We are the only life in this world.

I reach out and sweep the side of Abbys head and then grab a piece of her long hair, twirling it between my fingers. She smiles at my gesture and leans her head on the back of the couch before breaking our silence with a whisper.

"You were dreaming before"

"Yeah"

"What were you dreaming about?"

"Flying a kite with our kids"

"We have kids?" Her lips curl into a hint of a smile as she asks the question, almost as if she has thought about what our children would be like as well.

"Well in my dream we do . . . Jack and Jessie"

"Is Jessie a boy or a girl?"

"A girl . . . looks just like you" Her eyes light up for a moment and I can imagine that she is picturing a sweet little face in her head, big brown eyes and two pink ribbons tied securely onto long, dark pigtails. But then her expression turns to what I can only describe as heartache. I look down at my hands with a pang of regret as I feel her lifting my feet off of her lap. She stands up and moves to the other side of the room, pushing her hair out of her face and leaning against the wall deep in thought. I know somehow sharing my vision of our children has upset her and even though I'm not inside her head, I can tell exactly what she's thinking. It will never happen. We have killed all hope for the happily ever after and she doesn't want to be where we were six weeks ago. She doesn't want to go back to having sex with out love.

"I don't think you should sleep here anymore" She breaks me out of my thoughts aftera long silence. With no expression, the words come out of her mouth almost as if she is thinking out loud.

I look over at her and watch as she bites down on her bottom lip and I'm trying to think of anything that could save me now, anything that could possibly take back the confession that I just made. But there is no excuse and all there is to do is concede. Somehow I knew it wasn't quite time to share my dream with her, but I couldn't resist. I knew that I would scare her away, say too much and pressure her into granting me the fairy tale ending that I so badly want for us. It's not that I think she doesn't want it, she's just not yet convinced that it's what I really want. She's afraid that I'm not ready to love her.

"I thought you might say that." I simply give up, these isn't anything that's going to change the way I feel and every moment I'm with her just makes it harder not to be honest about my feelings.

"It's just too complicated Carter"

"I know." I do know; she's right. We've made this too complicated, taken this relationship too far to settle for friendship.

"So then why are you still here?"

"There's no place I would rather be" What I really want to tell her is that I'm here because I love her, that the crumbs I get by holding her at night are just barely satisfying my need to be with her. We sleep together almost every night, sharing a bed, our personal space. I touch her, rub my hands down her back, her arms, and I don't know if she sees that there is so much meaning in our contact. I don't know if she sees that I love her, sees that I am waiting for her to let me get closer. I know by now that she feels safe with me, when I am with her late at night she trusts that I won't take advantage of her. She trusts that I will love her in all other ways.

"You don't want to be here with me. I mean, don't you think this is all just an illusion." She raises her arms as if she is holding the room in her hands, showing me this dysfunctional cocoon that we have created.

I watch Abby as she moves toward the window at the far end of the room and leans her back on it in exhaustion. She runs her fingers across her lips and focuses on an object in the distance before she whispers her next words into the air, "Your dream . . . . . It's just a dream."

She sadly shrugs her shoulders as I try to open my mouth in any form of rebuttal, and I'm desperately searching for something that I can say to make her understand. Yes, it's a dream, but it's _my_ dream, and I want it. I want the kids and the family and the kite and the meadow . . . and her. And somehow I can't muster the guts to really tell her, or it simply isn't the right time because I've already succeeded in scaring her away. She thinks this won't work again and she's afraid to try.

I continue to stare at her, my mouth open, waiting for my words but she speaks before me.

"You should just go home and stay there for a while . . . I don't know. . . maybe we need to back off of this whole sleeping-over-slumber-party living situation."

"For how long?" She continues to look down at the ground silently, her hands brushing her hair out of her face to reveal a tear sliding down her cheek. "Abby, for how long?"

"I don't know Carter." She croaks out the words and sniffles before I get up from the couch and walk over to her. I reach my hand out to touch her face but she guiltily backs away from me and steadies herself against the wall. But I won't let her avoid this contact that easily. If I am going to leave, I need to just touch her one last time, and it only takes her one more second to realize that she is going to miss me as much as I am going to miss her. I am about to walk away when she looks up at me and reaches her hand out. Sniffling back a tear, she grazes my arm and I turn around and reach for her, running my hands over her hair. I lightly grab her face so I can look at her and ingrain her beauty in my memory; the way her nose reminds me of the most perfect ski slope, the way her wet lashes seem to grow miles when she cries. Pulling her to me, I kiss the top of her head and whisper to her with my lips still lingering on her forehead, my arms clutching her close to me.

"I don't want to go . . . I just want to stay here with you"

"I don't want you to go either, but . . " She takes and deep breath but doesn't continue, Abby has said everything that she needs. Extending her hands, she holds on to my wrists, keeping me in front of her as if she is almost changing her mind and asking me to stay. But I know she's not. We're drinking each other in before the draught, taking mental pictures to hold onto before I turn around and leave. And I just don't understand why I can't turn back around and make love to her and tell her that I love her and want only her.

But I keep my mouth closed for now; there will be a time when I get to tell her how I really feel, a time when she is willing to accept it. So I walk away from her and away from the glowing lamp light and into the black abyss.


	8. Fly Away Home

**Authors Notes:** _I want to thank each and every one of you for clicking on the link to the last chapter of this story. I really took forever on this one, and I truly apologize for making you wait so long. I wanted this ending to be perfect, so I went over it a gazillion times, and ya know what, it's still not perfect! But I think you may enjoy it! I wanted to try something different, so this chapter is a bit experimental. It switches from Carter to Abby's point of view quite often, and sometimes gives you the same moment over again from the opposite point of view. It might require a bit more thinking, or focus as you are reading. I really hope it isn't confusing. That's not the goal! Just know that when a sentence or paragraph starts with bold lettering, we are switching from Carter to Abbys point of view, or vice versa. I think it should be easy if you have been following the story. Which brings me to my next, and last, point- If you have a moment, I suggest skimming over the last chapter or two because this chapter is a close continuation of the last one and makes a lot of references to things that have happened in previous chapters. But if you dont want to do that, here aresome things you should remember: Carter has been sleeping at Abbys for the last month or so. They'resharing a bed, but keeping their paws off each other, except for the occassional cuddle. Abby was asked out by a lawyer who she turned down by telling him she was married, and then told Carter about it. Carter is dreaming about building a life and a family with Abby and he shares this with her at the wrong moment and scares her into asking him to leave. . . _

_Thanks for reading guys! I really hope that you have enjoyed this story. And thanks so much for all your kind reviews and for the encouragement to keep writing!_

* * *

"Fly Away Home"

**There's a leak** on the ceiling in the damp hallway of Abby's apartment building. It's the first thing that I focus on as I step out her door . . . And its misery, all of this, leaving her here, the soft and steady drops of water falling into a bucket on the floor. I reach the security door at the entrance to the building and turn around before I exit, half expecting Abby to have followed me out, to ask me to stay. But I see in an instant that she hasn't changed her mind and I stand here waiting just a couple more seconds only to give her one more chance to do so. I listen as five more drops of water fall from the ceiling and it's now that I realize I have been standing here for almost ten minutes and Abby has probably gone back to sleep. So I turn around and walk out the door.

**I wipe the** tears from my eyes and swiftly turn my back to the door. If I watch him leave I'll just run after him and beg him to stay and crumble underneath him, exposing everything that I have tried to hide ever since we got into this whole mess. So I walk over to the couch and turn the lamp off, the apartment morphing quickly into a hollow black shell. I rub my hands over my eyes for a minute and shiver suddenly at the quick drop in temperature. I'm not sure if it's even possible but it feels like the apartment just got ten degrees colder. Walking over to the thermostat, I turn my heat up for the first time in almost a month. I just haven't really needed it lately with Carter sleeping next to me, but tonight there will be no body heat, no crooks to cuddle into, no chest to lie upon. And I am feeling more alone than ever.

* * *

**I walk through** the hospital entrance in a complete haze. It's been five days of sleeping all by myself in my lonely and cold king size bed. There is something so sterile about my living space without Abby in it; its lacking heart and beauty and comfort, and parts of me that I never knew I would miss until I lost them. 

I have only seen Abby one time since I left her apartment. We have been working almost all opposite shifts this week, not purposely, but it seems fitting that we've had some time apart. I worry about her going home sometimes, when I watch her leave the hospital late at night I pray that she had chosen to drive to work instead of taking the el. I worry about her on the train alone late at night and often fight the urge to call her and make sure she got home okay. I imagine her crawling into bed by herself and wonder too often if she feels as lonely as I do. I yearn to know what's going on in her head, if she misses my presence in her apartment, if her home feels as blank as mine does without her in it. I wonder if she feels like calling me in the middle of the night, when she wakes to find that she's still alone; I wonder if she's resisting the urge to let me back in, or if she is just running away from her feelings as fast as she can. No looking back.

I pass the lounge and peer inside it, catching Abby slipping off her jacket and throwing it into her locker. She places her stethoscope over her shoulders and pulls her long hair out from under its grasp. Its wavy today- her hair, and automatically I know that she must have fallen asleep with it wet, her long locks tied into a braid behind her head. I watch her as she pulls a tendril over her coat, remembering the last time she went to sleep with her hair still damp, how she cuddled into my shoulder all night because she was cold.

In an instant I am lost in my own thoughts as I stand in the middle of the hallway gaping at her, her beauty somehow freezing me into a pillar out in the corridor. I continue to stare as she organizes some things in her locker, noting the way her eyes fix so seriously onto the task at hand. I wonder if anybody else ever notices those little things about Abby, like the way she purses her lips when she's confused or how she runs her fingers under her nose when she's nervous. But my favorite Abby attribute is one that most people would never know about. It's the way that she used to look at me when we made love. Her eyes would glow like black coal embers, shinning in alight that she would radiate all on her own. Her look would get me every time, it literally had the power to bring me to my knees. I haven't really seen that look in over a year, except for that one time about six weeks ago when she kicked me out of her bed. She gave me that look just for a moment and I don't even know if she realized it. So I held her closer that night, prompting our emotionless screwing to turn into passionate love making. If only she knew that she really started it all. It was her look that did me in, the coal in her eyes and the way they commanded my attention.

She didn't even know about this "look" until I told her she did it. I told her that her eyes captivated me, that somehow she had the ability to draw me in with a simple look, and we laughed about it quickly, joking that she might be possessed by some unearthly creature. – Amysterious beautyfrom mars I thought, while she offered that she was a simple girl from the wrong side of the tracks.

Istand and watch her move abouther locker but I'm avoiding going inside, the content of my visions not ready to be smashed by reality quite yet. As much as I want to be close to her I can't bare being in the same room and pretending everything is okay, to act as if we are only colleagues. But in a quick second she turns around and catches me in the hall staring at her and I have to walk through the door.

**I throw my jacket** into my locker and grab my lab coat, swinging my stethoscope around my neck and checking my reflection in the mirror that's hanging on the inside of the door. Turning around quickly I move to the coffee machine and lift my head to find Carter standing in the hallway, staring into the lounge, and I'm pretty sure I've caught him staring _at me_. He bows his head and then looks back up, smiling sadly at his pathetic expression as he's been caught. Pushing through the door, he walks gingerly into the lounge, almost afraid to be in my presence. He's frightened of this first encounter, I think worried that we might not say the right things to each other. But all I feel as I watch him approach is that this encounter is coming way too soon, and even though I've missed him terribly, a part of me isn't ready to admit it yet.

"Hi." He keeps his head lowered to the floor, trying to avoid my eyes. He used to say that my eyes captivated him. No wonder he avoids them in awkward situations.

"Hi"

"You finally got a night shift . . . welcome to my world." He's dancing around his words, making sure that he doesn't say anything too personal to start out with, which is fine because that's exactly how I want it right now. I smile at his week attempt and pour us some coffee, glancing at him as I splash the creamer into his cup.

He mumbles a quick thank you and takes his mug and looks down at the floor and then up again quickly.

"I miss you" He says it with no warning at all, just a step away from me, a statement that totally catches me off guard, and all I can think of is how much I miss him too, and how much I don't want to say it.

"I'm right here." I mummer it blankly; it's all I can think of, a reply that is so terribly shitty to someone I care so terribly for. And I feel like an asshole the minute the words escape my lips. "I'm sorry."

_I miss you too. I really really do. I miss you._

He cuts me off with his own apology, "No, no . . . I'm sorry," I can tell he feels bad for making such a declaration because he knows that I wasn't ready to hear it. He stands at the counter pondering this meeting for a moment and then decides to walk away from it. It doesn't hurt me, because I know that that's exactly what he's trying not to do. He's gotten the message that I'm not ready to talk and we both can't waist our energy pretending that everything is alright, making small talk and discussing the weather. So he leaves me standing at the coffee maker alone, watching him walk to the door and then he turns around for a brief moment to look back at me. "I guess I'll see you-" he motions with his finger out into the hospital, "around."

All I can do is nod my head at him and when he is out of my sight I collapse on the couch, exhausted from a simple seven words, seven words that were so personal, yet so impersonal at the same time. I can't help but think how exhausting it is to be like this, to live the way we're living, to yearn and yearn until your arms feel so empty that they just start to erode, start to disappear until you are left with two short stubs growing from your shoulders. And that's what I will look like in years to come, a person that has started to fade away, a weeping plant that hasn't been fed or watered in ages, but is still holding on, trying to make it. There will be friends and coworkers talking about me, the girl with the innocent face that wouldn't let anyone in, the one that had the chance and blew it away because she wanted to be the lady that lived with all those cats. And I would have lots and lots of cats, and feed them milk and cook dinner for them nightly, as if they were my family, mentally stable and full of unconditional love.

I throw my head back on to the arm rest and chide myself for how pathetic I imagine myself, for how ridiculous it is that I cant tell him that I miss him. And it's in this moment when I decide that I have to say it, and it has to be said now.

Jumping up from my seat, I slam my locker door and run out of the lounge and into the busy emergency room, my eyes darting in every direction looking for Carter. I take a quick walk through the layout, glancing into each curtain area, my hasty efforts unsuccessful as I'm about to give up. I raise my shoulders and let out a frustrated breath before opening the supply closet in one more attempt to find him. And of course here he is, sitting on a turned over waist bucket, collecting a pair of scrubs from the bottom shelf.

He looks up at me and raises his brows, noticing my winded appearance, his way of asking what's up.

"I was looking for you." I blurt it out and walk into the closet, closing the door behind me. The knob clicks and suddenly the lights are out, the door sending an automatic signal to the switch which must be a new feature. I feel around for the manual switch on the wall and I can feel both Carter and I quivering with nervous energy as I can't seem to find it. I hear him get up from the pail and his arm grazes mine, sending shivers down my spine. He's searching for the light switch with the palm of his hand and I can smell him close to me, his body almost pressed up against mine in the tightly enclosed space. He finally locates the switch and in an instant we are both bathed in a harsh florescent light, finding ourselves embarrassingly close to each other. He towers above me as I look up at him and in one tiny moment we almost reach for each other, but then he looks down at me before moving away, mumbling an apology for crowding my space. I thank him in a low whisper for finding the lights. Nervously, I motion with my hands at nothing in particular and it takes me a second to get out what I so desperately wanted to say just a minute ago.

"Um, I really didn't mean to be shitty back there."

"Its okay, you weren't . . .I got the hint."

I shake my head with a fair amount of force and speak as quickly as I can.

"There wasn't a hint . . . " And then slowly I drag it out, like a magician pulling a single color handkerchief froma sleeve only to reveal the next color and the next color and the next . . . "And . . . I miss you too."

He smiles for a moment, but then conceals his joy before answering me seriously. "Well what do you want to do about that?"

"I don't know yet."

**She turns to** walk out of the closet but before she goes I catch her hand, and in an instant we both gasp at the spark that cracks between our palms. I shocked her, literally. It must be the static on the freshly washed scrubs that I had been digging through. Cautiously, I reach out to her again.

"Could you let me know when you figure it out?"

She rubs her hand down her thigh as she processes my request and then she quietly shakes her head 'yes' before shutting the door and leaving me alone in the dark. Stupid sensors.

I let out a breath that I've been holding for what seems like hours and lye my back against the sheets stacked on the shelving in the wall. I could stay in here all day and think about Abby, and replay her words in my head a hundred times over. She misses me, possibly not as much as I miss her, but it's a start and I can't help but smile as I start to feel hopeful.

Getting up from my spot I head toward the front desk and I'm immediately flagged down by a man dressed sharply in a suit and tie. His hair is dark chocolate, messy pieces falling into his bright blue eyes and framing a young looking face. He approaches me with a soft smile, and he's a little cocky looking; I can tell he knows how to charm people.

"I'm here to see Dr. Lockhart."

"Do you have an emergency?"

"Just a headache, she fixed me up last time." I carefully size the handsome man up, realizing who he is and immediately holding back the urge to ring his neck. He's that "cute lawyer" that asked Abby out last week, the one that she turned down by telling him that she was married.

"Well, this isn't a private practice so you're going to have to wait over there until a doctor can see you." I brush him off, partly because this really isn't a private practice but mostly because I'd prefer him to stay as far away from Abby as possible.

"That's okay; I'll wait for Dr. Lockhart"

"She's gonna be a while." My words come out harshly as I've almost lost my patience with this guy, my hands turning into fists at my sides bellow the counter. I signal him to waiting area and smirk just a little and right as he is about to turn away Abby saunters over to us and I'm caught in a bit of a fib.

"Carter, did you sign off on my scabies girl?" I'm focused on trying to lead Abby's attention away from the Lawyer, and I am almost sidetracked when I notice her smiling softly;it seems thatthere has been a weight lifted from her shoulders since our conversation in the supply closet.

"No, I'll do that right now." I walk toward Abby and just about push her to turn in the other direction until Lawyer McHeadache butts in and grabs her by the arm.

"Hi, um, Dr. Lockhart?"

"Yes?" She looks down at my hand on her one arm and his hand on her other and then up at me with a confused expression.

"Remember me, the cute guy with the migraine that asked you out?" He let's go of her and lamely points to his head, trying to charm her and as I watch Abby's expression I notice that it's almost working.

She smiles shyly at him and pushes her hair behind her ears. "Yes, I remember."

"Where's your ring?"

"Excuse me?" She looks confused for a moment but I catch on, knowing exactly what this guy is searching for- evidence that she's taken.

"Your ring, I thought you said you were married" She's taken aback by the question and for a moment she cant find her words, so I jump in, putting my arm around Abby and pulling her back to my chest.

"She is, to me. There's just something about blood and guts that doesn't mix with the ten-carrot diamond that we picked out" I snootily look up at the young man after mock gazing at my "wife", my nose high in the air, and I'm enjoying this way too much. Abby looks up at me and gives me and roll of her eyes, not quite believing that I've just made up this fabrication. But she goes along with it and smiles at me affectionately, fending the handsome man off. He nods his head in embarrassment and looks down at his watch, pretending that he's got somewhere to be before he ducks out of the waiting area and scurries out to the ambulance bay.

We both watch the handsome man walk away and as soon as he's out of view Abby turns around in my arms and hits my shoulder playfully.

"You know, if you're going to tell people that were married, you can at least buy me the ten-carrot ring to make it look true." She raises her eyebrows applauding her own great idea and we share a laugh at her facetious comment. What she doesn't know is that I'd buy her a ring in a second, and it would look incredible, shinning fine speckles of light over every surface in her presence as it sits sweetly upon her perfect little finger. She smiles again and throws her head in the direction of her scabies patient, signaling me to follow her to see the poor girl.

As I walk behind her I watch the curve of her body with each sway of her hips and for a moment right beside her, I can see a shadow of my dream, a beautiful little girl with long pink ribbons fastened tightly to two pig tails. She's pulling on her mothers fingers and holding on to a Barbie lunchbox. Abby is running her hand over the top of her head, the sparkle of a beautiful stone catching the artificial light in the hallway as she strolls next to the apparition. In an instant the little girl is gone and I am stuck once again in the middle of the corridor staring at Abby instead of following her, and once again, she catches me. But this time she just pushes her bangs out of her eyes and smiles.

**Standing in the** middle of the hallway I watch Carter as he stairs in my direction, but it's almost as if he is looking right through me, off into space or into a fantasy world. I smile at him and try to imagine what he must be thinking about and I wonder if he thinks on the same level as I do; if he can't help but feel how tiring it is to care for someone, to worry about them constantly and to always have a nagging feeling that something might go wrong. He already knows this about me; he already knows that I'm scared to be with him. But now _I_ know that I'm more scared to be _without_ him. And that nagging feeling right now, is more welcome than ever.

I smile sweetly at him as I quickly ponder our complicated relationship and all I want to do is scream at the top of my lungs. _I wasn't joking; I want the ring! Tell me that you love me! I think you might love me! _But he just keeps looking at me, lost in his own thoughts.

"Carter?" His eyes now are moving down my body, and I think focused somewhere at my side. "John!" I finally catch his attention and he snaps out of his trance, quickly looking up into my eyes and rubbing his own.

"Are you okay?" He finally looks up into my eyes and smiles like were meeting all over again, like we have just caught sight of each other for the first time. Love at first sight.

"Yeah . . . I'm perfect." He smiles wide and all I can do is smile back at him. _Well, not perfect . . .but close._

**In my worst nightmares** I am a mother to an alien creature, a literal monster with fangs and drool and fingers as long as sipping straws. It's the being that I would had given birth to if I hadn't aborted what I thought was a sweet little face inside my belly. In my dreams it haunts me until I wake in a sweat, my knuckles white, my palms transparent. But tonight the dream has another ending. There are monster, many of them, climbing out of my uterus, breaking through my body. There are loud cries of agony and muffled sounds of sweet baby laughter in the distance. Burried underneath the chaos there's a man in a rocking chair. As he creeps into vision the monsters scurry away and I'm suddenly left with thesight of my best friend rocking our perfect new baby, tiny feet and tiny hands wrapped around his ringed finger. He smiles at me and asks, "_Do you want to take her? She's hungry."_

I reach my hands out to take her, soft baby skin upon my fingers and Johns hands on my arms. Smiling, I open my eyes and he is here, his soft gently hands running smoothly over my shoulder. The dream is far from over.

**Walking down the** dimly lit hallway I finger the key in my hands and then turn the door knob, the lamp light at the side of Abby's couch bathing the living room in a murky glow. I stand at the door and survey the apartment, for a moment wondering if Abby could possibly be awake. The home is silent and her bedroom door is closed and I wonder why she left the light on- perhaps for me, or perhaps to ease the loneliness.

I drop my key on the kitchen table and pull my sweatshirt over my head, the soft scent of lavender filling the air of Abbys worn apartment.I smile as I breathinherfamiliar pheromone, and somehow I feel that I've just found my way home.

I make my way toward her bedroom and let out a shaky breath before turning the knob quietly and walking to the bedside. She's sleeping on her back tonight, her chin tucked under her shoulder with her right arm draped across her breast. There's a sliver of light shining through a crack in her blinds, falling right over her forehead and down her chest, illuminating the outline of her pouty lips and casting shadows of her long eyelashes upon her cheeks. There isn't any possibility that she could look more beautiful than she does at this moment and all I can do for what seems like hours is stand here and watch her chest rise and fall. I move to sit on the edge of the bed and reach a hand out to her arm, trying my best not to startle her. My fingers graze over her shoulder and Abby stirs a bit, taking in a deep breath and stretching her arms over her head. I move my fingers down her arm and inch closer to her, letting her wake up slowly as I wait for her to open her eyes.

"Abby" I whisper her name into the air as she continues to stir out of her deep sleep, the gentle stroke of my hands drawing her from her groggy state. Like a cat, she stretches her limbs out and grazes the side of my leg, and then slightly startled by what she has hit, she opens her eyes. Abby breathes in the deepest breath and stares straight into me for what seems like days. She then lifts her hand and runs it over my leg, testing to make sure that I am really sitting on the bed beside her. It seems that she's been dreaming.

"How did you know?" She speaks in the softest whisper, only half awake and I have no idea what she is asking me.

"What?"

"That I was dreaming about you."

I look down at her as she closes her eyes again, switching between barely awake and barely sleeping. I whisper softly back at her and smile at the thought of her dreaming of me.

"I didn't"

Pulling her hair out of her face, I graze her cheek and lean in closer to her.

"But you're here" She pushes out these three beautiful breathy words and finally opens her eyes wide, now fully awake and smiling sweeter than I have ever seen her smile before. She doesn't make any effort to sit up, but she reaches her arm out from under the blanket and pulls the covers from her body, silently inviting me to slide underneath them. I kick my shoes off with the tip of my toes and climb close to Abby, running my hands delicately over her stomach and wrapping my arms around her waist.

"Are you awake, Abby?" I ask her with my mouth to her ear, just to be positive that she knows exactly what she is doing. I need to be sure that she is fully conscious of her decision to invite me into her bed, because the last things I want to do is take advantage of her.

She takes another deep breath as I feel her back expand and then fall back into my chest; she then exhales a breathy "yes". She slides her hands down my arms and then grasps my hand in hers, bringing it up to her lips to place a gentle kiss in my palm. My heart aches at the feeling of her lips on my skin and a shiver runs through my whole body as she pulls my arms even tighter around her. For a while we share a comfortable silence, both of us not making any effort to fall asleep. We are just enjoying the warmth of each others embrace and the steady beating of each others hearts.

Moments later Abby starts to stir in my arms, and for a brief second I am terrified that she has finally stepped back into her full consciousness and has realized that she doesn't want me here after all. But all she does is lift my arms a little bit off of her so she could turn around in my embrace and a second later we are face to face, chest to chest; our lips only a couple inches apart. She runs her hands down my back and settles in to our new position before she looks up at me with bright eyes, hopeful and open, and full of what I'm pretty sure could be _- love?_ I run my finger down her face and lower my head a little, inching closer and closer until my nose is touching hers, our eye lashes grazing each others. And then I kiss her. Softly, our lips only slightly parted and it's the sweetest and most beautiful kiss that I have ever had and it is over all too quickly.

"John-"

I cut her off before she could protest, "Wait. Let me say something." I then pause for a moment before continuing; realizing that what ever words I say right now would be in adequate. They could never truly communicate to her just how much I want to be with her, how much time I have spent thinking about every way that I love her. But I'll try the best I can.

"I'm not here because I'm horny, or because I need sex so I can temporarily escape my misery." She looks up at me with wide eyes and shakes her head to let me know she understands. "I'm not miserable anymore. . . I'm in love."

I stroke the back of my fingers down her cheeks and then brush my thumb over her lips and although the room is nearly pitch black, I can see her smile, bright as day, and it illuminates the whole room.

"I'm here because I love you. . . I'm here to make love to you."

**I remember that** I told him that I thought I was dreaming and somehow I think that I still might be. Looking around the room I search for any other sign that I might actually be awake, but all I can see is him, lying over me, his fingers stroking light circles down my throat. He lets his hand run over my arm and then I feel his fingers squeeze me slowly, three times, and I know now at this moment that I am not dreaming anymore, that he is here, in the flesh, telling me that he loves me, showing me with his hands on my arm, with his eyes boring into mine, that he is ready to love me. All I can do at this moment is smile like I never have before. I can feel how this smile is different, the way that my lips are curving in a different manor, the way that the apples of my cheeks are rising so far up almost into my eyes. I open my mouth to talk, to say something along the lines of _I love you too_, or _I love you even more_, or something like _I've been waiting my whole life to hear you say that! _But nothing yet is coming out.

**I run my finger** over her smiling lips again and watch as she tries to form some kind of response and in another moment she just whispers back. "Okay." _Okay. _It's all I need to hear right now. She accepts it, she knows that I love her and there is no question in her eyes, just two lips curled into a smile and her arms circled so tightly around my back. In a millisecond her eyes close quickly and then open up again, but this time her look is sultry and sexy and indescribably heart stopping. She runs her hand up my back and cups the back of my head, taking and arching her chest into mine before kissing me, this time seriously. It's like a thousand doves were just freed from a cage, like the sun has just exploded into a thousand pieces catapulting rays of light into the sky and into this very bedroom. I lay my hands on either side of her and lift my body so I'm not crushing her, but she pulls me down to her more so that all of me is covering her, my legs tangled with hers under the sheets. Our lips are still glued together, our tongues exploring territory that seems both new and familiar at the same time. Her body responds with every touch of my hands with rays of fire blazing in the wake of my trails. She lifts her knee into the air to bring me even closer to her and I am floored by the passion that is coming from this woman. We have made love countless times, but never like this.

**There is something** different about this time. Something about the way that he is kissing me that is unlike any time that we have kissed before. This time there is contact, in every way, eyes connecting, fingers intertwining, legs colliding. It's like every part of us is meeting for the first time, all over again.

**"Carter" **She breaths my name in a little bit of a questioning manner and I know now that I will absolutely kill myself if she asks me to stop. But she smiles up at me for the third time this evening and then brings her mouth right up to my ear and whispers into it sending a shiver down my spine. "I love you too." Her warm breath tickles my ear as her hands move up my body to cup my face. Pulling her lips away from my ear she looks me straight in the eye, daring me to not believe that these words she's spoken are true. But I believe. I feel it in the way she is holding me. I see it in the way she is looking at me. I hear it with the sound of the confidence in her voice. She loves me just the same as I love her.

So I move my lips down to her throat and then over to her ear, and it is now my turn to make her shiver. "I know" She breathes a throaty laugh and playfully pushes me off of her, climbing over me and pulling her own t-shirt over her head in one swift motion. I reach out to touch her, to pull her warm body over me, to press her against me. And she is already leaning into me, pushing my t-shirt up over my chest. And there it is, that look-

"Your doing it."

"What?"

"That look in your eyes. How do you make them go dark like that?"

She shakes her head and smiles playfully.

"Maybe it's you."

* * *

_It's crazy_

_I'm thinking just as long as you're around and here I'll be dancing on the ground_

_Am I right-side up or upside down?_

_To each other –we'll be facingmy love,my love_

_We'll beat back the pain we found_

_You know, I mean to tell you all the things I've been thinking _

_Deep inside my friend_

_Each moment the more I love you_

_So much you have given, love_

_that I would give you back again and again_

_Oh, love_

_Meaning I'll hold you but please, please_

_Just let me always_

_- Dave Matthews Band_


End file.
